My Unconventional First Date
by Natasha Hyatt
Summary: JDCox preslash. Also a death!fic. Someone goes through a death, but he can't do this all on his own. Or can he?


_bar._

He had only gone out drinking alone with the man one other time, and at that time he acted as the man's confidante. Which was nice, sure, but it was different from the cocky person he was so used to seeing at the hospital. He wasn't too cocky this time around, either. Actually, he was a little more drunk than the scotch glasses claimed. It didn't change the nature of the conversation - general complaining.

On and on, he ranted about Jordan, and how she had turned from a dragon woman to an actual dragon, fire-breathing powers and all. Or, he rambled about his job, wondering how some of the newer interns even qualified to attend high school, let alone pass the rigors of medical school and find work at a hospital. Or his complaining ran along the lines of general crap that he hadn't been able to bring up at work for some reason or another. By the time Dr. Cox had gotten around to wondering whether everybody in the entire _universe_ had been replaced with pod people ("And in_com_petent ones at that!"), or zombies, or were just born to be bumbling bags of flesh and bone, JD assumed he was exaggerating his worldly, wordy grievances; the alcohol made his tall tales taller and his rants rantier. He was beginning to really tune out, and wonder if that cute girl tending bar was eyeing him or his mentor, when Dr. Cox said something that brought JD out of his haze.

"Sometimes, Clarissa, I think you're the only girl who'll ever understand me. You know?"

Oddly enough, Cute Bartender Girl walked over to them. "Someone say my name?" she asked.

"Oh, no, he meant me," JD answered. Cute Bartender Girl - Clarissa, now - raised an eyebrow and walked away. JD internally sighed; so much for that one. Clarissa probably thought the two of them were a little off. She would have a point, he mused, glancing at his mentor as he downed another glass. JD stirred his own drink whimsically, wondering what time it was. A quick glance at the clock above the bar told him one in the morning. He had a shift at six, and Dr. Cox probably needed to get home.

"You probably need to get home," he said. Cox glared at him a little and petulantly asked for - fine, _demanded_ - another scotch. Clarissa told him no, the bar would be closing and he really did need to get home, and was he okay to drive?

"I've got Eliza," Cox stated proudly, slinging an arm over JD's shoulders and getting to his feet. "Best damn driver in the country, isn't that right?" JD offered Clarissa a sheepish smile, mentally hoping she'd forgive the drunk doctor for his strangeness, and began to half-walk, half-stagger to the door.

"She thinks we're crazy, you know."

"She thinks you're crazy, 'cause your name's Elissa."

"No," JD said. "She thinks _you're_ crazy, 'cause you were calling me girls' names again."

"But I always do that!"

JD resisted a smile. "Not in front of cute bartenders you don't." Then, "I'm driving."

"Marie, you're too drunk to drive."

"I'm not," JD protested as they reached Cox's Porsche. "'m less drunker than you," he added, poking Cox in the chest as he opened the passenger's door and gestured for Cox to get in.

"'s my car, though," Cox grumped.

"An' you're the one who has so much blood in his system, the alcohol's by now disappeared," JD said. Wait, that wasn't right. "Wait, no, you have so much al-co-hol in your system, the blood's disappeared." That was it.

"Get in an' drive, Elaine."

_  
driving.  
_

"Newbie, if you don't shut up right this very instant I will climb over there, pull this goddamn car over and leave you stranded for the lions and tigers and bears out in the woods, is that clear?"

JD stopped singing "99 Bottles of Beer" - it would've been appropriate if they'd had beer, but JD had stuck to his appletinis and Cox had downed his usual scotch. "I was on sixty-nine bottles, too," he complained, sniggering slightly. "Sixty-nine bottles. Too bad the Todd isn't here."

"Too bad indeed," Cox said gruffly. "And anyways," he paused to calculate, "twenty-eight bottles of beer is too much for anyone, 'specially you."

"That's thirty bottles to you, Percival!"

Cox glared at him, eyes more deranged than usual. "I'll pull the car over."

"How?" JD asked, teasing light in his eyes. "_I'm_ the one driving!" He sped up to prove his point.

"Newbie, slow the hell down!" Cox shouted, his voice ringing in his ears. "_Slow_the fuck _down_!!"

"Fine, Buzzy McBuzzkill," JD mumbled, pouting and easing up on the accelerator. "I was just havin' a little fun is all. I thought you were a fun drunk."

"I _am_ a fun drunk," Cox growled defensively, bristling a little. "I just don't want to be driven into a tree."

"Well that won't happen," JD said, straightening up and blinking a few times to focus. "I'm the best damn driver in the country, remember?"

"All too well," Cox muttered, leaning against the seat. Silence pervaded the vehicle for a blissful while, Cox dozing in and out of consciousness.

Newbie's voice jarred him from the blurry edges of sleep. "I really had fun tonight."

"You're making this sound like a date, kid," Cox grumped, tired and not wanting to hear Newbie's girlish confessions.

JD was unfazed. "Would you go on another 'date' if I asked?" he questioned.

At this, Cox turned to look at him. "You're asking me out."

"No, I'm asking you out _for a few drinks_ on another day. I'm not... you know. Well, not completely, I guess. I don't know, I don't really think about it all that much."

Cox sat up a little from his comfortable slouch in the seat. "That's what they all say."

JD briefly tore his eyes from the road to look at the other doctor in the car. "Are you... well, do _you_ think you swing for the other team?"

"Usually? No." There was truth in that.

"Okay, but you said 'usually.' That means that you would _unusually_... you know." Cox snorted, annoyed that the kid kept skirting around the words he meant to say . "I mean, I know it's not a choice," JD went on, "but if you were being 'unusual'," and here he took his hands from the wheel to air-quote the word, "would you... well, _you know_?"

"Depends on who we're talking about," Cox answered, glad he had stopped his rambling. He relaxed again. Truth in that, too. "I'm sure you'd be abs-ho-_lute_-ly adorable, Janice."

"You would go out on a real date with me." JD's voice was squeaky.

Cox looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Why the hell not?" His mouth started to quiver, until he finally burst out laughing. "God, Newbie, you fall for everything!"

JD frowned and turned his eyes to the road, mumbling something to himself.

"Come again?"

"I wouldn't have refused, you know." JD's voice tried to stave off insult. It failed.

Cox groaned quietly, hands coming up to his head for a moment. "Newbie. I'm divorced, I have a son, and I am living with a woman whom I believe is, if not the Devil Incarnate, at least a high-ranking agent of said unholy being. You are a sprightly and carefree, albeit very sexually confused, young girl who has all the hopes and dreams in the world and doesn't need to have them crushed so immediately by a narcissistic and jaded individual such as myself." He looked at JD, who was concentrating on the road. "You should have refused."

"I know. It's weird," he said, tapping his fingers lightly on the wheel. "I know I like girls and don't like guys. But then..." he trailed off for a minute before continuing. "But then it's like, there are some guys who I wouldn't mind liking."

"Like Gandhi?"

JD shrugged. "I had a little crush on him in our sophomore year of college," he admitted. "And freshman year of med school. But aside from that," he continued, fingers stilling their tapping, "I wouldn't mind, say, liking Harrison Ford. Or Hugh Jackman." Cox made a noise of disgust at that, but didn't say anything further. "And I would kind of go out with you, _maybe_." JD's voice turned shy at the last statement.

"Oh, so I get the condescending _maybe_, is that how it works?" Cox leaned against the headrest, eyes closed briefly. "You'd pick Hugh Jackman over me," he muttered, bewildered.

"He's Wolverine!"

"And I'm just the ordinary doctor who's saved more lives than Wolverine ever will. I get it." Cox turned to JD, who was looking at him like he had sprouted extra heads.

"Do not blaspheme against the great Wolverine, Coxy." JD said no more and turned back to the road.

Cox yawned. "I guess I could take you out for coffee sometime."

JD wagged a finger at him briefly. "Oh, no. You'll just take me to the cafeteria and get me the really bad coffee. I know how you work, Dr. Cox. I'm in your head!" Cox groaned as JD waggled his fingers at him. "No, if you want to take me out on a coffee date, it has to be at a really nice café, with smooth jazz playing in the stereo and abstract art on the walls and-"

"You're so specific, Alice. I was just going to take you to Starbucks, and then you raise the bar." Cox looked over at JD. "Unless you want me to call off the date entirely..."

"Starbucks is fine," JD said hastily. "They have abstract art sometimes."

"I'll take you when they have the Picasso exhibit, baby," Cox said, the last word meant to be sarcastic. Either way, JD took it as a good sign and grinned to himself, speeding up a little as they neared his apartment.

He didn't see the eighteen-wheeler until it slammed into the passenger's side.

_  
hospital._

JD had wanted to see Dr. Cox when they were separated at Sacred Heart, but Dr. Cox had been taken to an emergency OR and JD had his own monkey pandering to him.

"I'm fine!" he insisted to the on-call resident who was busily fussing over him. "I'm fine, just go make sure Dr. Cox is fine too! _Go!_" he barked, scaring off the sleepy-eyed resident. The resident scampered off, and JD was about to go and ask where Dr. Cox was having surgery when Elliot, bleary-eyed after being on-call for the third night in a row, saw him and ran over.

"JD! I thought you had the night..." She stopped. "JD, your forehead... you're bleeding."

JD brought an index finger to his forehead; the finger came back red. "I was in an accident," he said distractedly.

Elliot went into panic mode. "JD! Are you sure you're okay? We'll get you a bed, and check to see if you're-"

"Elliot, I'm fine," JD cut her off before she panicked herself into a frenzy. "Trust me, it's just a cut. I'm not going to die immediately from a little cut. I can get sutures put in later."

"I'd be happier if they were in now," Elliot said, biting her lip a little. JD realized this was a battle he was too tired to fight, and let Elliot drag him off to stitch him up.

"So you and Dr. Cox were driving back from the bar when the truck hit you?" she asked as she finished the last suture.

"It totaled his car, too," JD said sadly. "The whole passenger side... The truck did more damage to the back of the car than the front, though." He shivered a little through the warmth of his jacket. "Still. They had to use the Jaws of Life to get him out." He bit his lip.

"I'm... JD, I'm sorry," Elliot said as her pager beeped. "I can go and check on Dr. Cox for you, if you want."

"I want to see him myself."

"You'll have to wait a while before you can go see him. I think he's still in surgery." JD inwardly cringed at the thought of his mentor lying cold on the operating table. So many things could go wrong during surgery - his mind immediately starting ticking off the possible mistakes and complications of surgery that Turk had told him about.

"He'll get out soon enough," Elliot continued, trying to reassure JD and herself of it. "He's too much of a mean old coot to... you know." She hugged JD tightly and went off to visit the cause of her beeping pager.

JD paced the hospital halls, glancing at the clock as he mentally urged it to speed up. One minute passed. Another. Another. The endless ticking was magnified in the silence, taking too long for JD. He waited, and waited, and waited.

And waited until he figured that Dr. Cox_must_ have finished up by now.

The walk to the elevator was gloomy, quiet - JD would have welcomed a jab from the Janitor instead of facing the eerie silence. The hospital was quiet tonight - most of the patients were sleeping or dead. Standing in the elevator itself was worse - JD was alone. Getting out of that elevator, he was extremely grateful that he wasn't claustrophobic. That would have been hell.

Dr. Cox had made it out of surgery and was asleep, looking very much like an ordinary patient from the glass window JD was peering through. His vitals looked okay, from where JD was standing, although he wasn't close enough to really tell. A nurse - Carla, actually, was checking his heart rate, upping morphine, and just _seeing_ the man on a morphine drip was scary. If the crash was that bad... JD swallowed a lump in his throat he hadn't known was there.

Carla left the room and noticed JD, his nose pressed to the window. "JD, hey," she said, hand clenching his shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

"How is he?"

Carla hesitated. "He... JD, he lost a lot of blood. His entire right leg was completely smashed by the car door, and he came close to internal decapitation. Three of his ribs were shattered." She didn't wait for JD to process the information. "Another punctured his lung."

"Who did his surgery?"

"The Todd," Carla replied. JD nodded to himself - the Todd could be a horny dog at all times, to put it lightly, but he was a very good surgeon. Better than Turk, JD wouldn't say, even with a gun to his head.

"And is his lung-"

"He's stable," Carla said, not waiting for JD to finish asking his question. "They were able to fix a lot, if not all, of the damage. But, JD... the rib nearly punctured his heart. Had it come an inch closer..." She let the rest of the reply remain unspoken.

JD ran his hand down his face, taking a deep breath to quell the nervous tempest his insides had become. "Can I go see him?" he asked shakily.

"Of course, Bambi," Carla said gently, squeezing his shoulder softly and leaving JD alone.

JD walked into the room, the beeping of monitors softening the drone of the pounding in his heart and head. "This isn't right," he said, speaking softly as if not to wake him. "You're supposed to be the doctor, not the patient." JD reached the right side of the bed and perched himself carefully on the edge, doing his best not to disturb the IV drip nearby. The bags of blood and saline looked like a disturbed set of chimes that you would see hanging over a porch on a sunny summer afternoon. But this wasn't a porch, and those bags didn't chime.

JD frowned as he took in the sight of the doctor on the bed. A tube in his mouth, his right arm a bed of smaller tubes, he was pale and it was scary. "What's happened to you..." JD, voice uneven and small, asked. Even though he knew the answer.

It was his fault. He had sped up, eager to reach his apartment and excited at the thought of going out on a coffee date with Dr. Cox. Had he not sped up... he couldn't think about it. It was his fault, all his fault. That voice nagged at him, bit him and stung him, and reverberated within the confines of his mind. It was cruel.

_Your fault, your fault, it's all your fault._

JD bit his tongue to keep himself from tearing up. He should have called a taxi, someone would've taken care of the car for them. But JD hadn't felt very drunk, just a little buzzed. He had driven home buzzed before, it was no big deal.

Dr. Cox "asking him out" was a big deal. And now he probably wouldn't get to take him out on their date. JD cried a little at that, small tears falling until they itched and he had to wipe them away.

"Wake up, you idiot," JD demanded, upset to find his voice cracking more than he wanted it to. "Wake up and tell me that it's not my fault. You're supposed to do that." Cox stirred slightly, and JD was alert, but it was a fluke. A good sign, but a fluke.

JD wanted to leave the room, to go have a good cry in the bathroom and maybe angrily punch the mirrors in when he couldn't stand being so useless. But if he did, Dr. Cox might die in the room, and he wouldn't be there to make sure that didn't happen. He was torn between letting out his frustrations or facing his guilt.

In the end, JD compromised, stealing a tongue depressor and splintering it in the room until it was nothing more than a bunch of wood shavings in the palm of his hand. It helped a little, but his eyes would turn to the doctor and the machines and he would feel horrible all over again.

JD stayed in the room until five fifty, when he went to change into the extra scrubs he kept in his locker. Five fifty-five, he was back in the ICU, watching over Dr. Cox like a guilty guardian angel. As six steadily approached, JD gripped Dr. Cox's hand in his, willing him to wake up and berate him for being such a girl. His grip tightened, and he thought he felt Dr. Cox respond, the other man's hand tightening just a little bit.

_If he wakes now, it'll be a miracle_, JD thought. He didn't, but his hand did tighten. JD was sure of it.

"Don't die on me," JD whispered, halfheartedly smiling despite everything. "You and I have a date."

He was gone by six, checking on his patients, talking to the ones that were awake and making sure the sleeping ones were stable. JD was careful to avoid the ICU, knowing that the mere sight of the ward itself would distract him, and he was too tired and hungover to deal with distraction. And besides, there really was nothing to worry about. His surgery had gone well, Dr. Cox was recovering, and everything would be rainbows and puppy dogs and JD could look forward to a deluge of girls' names for the rest of his life. And they would go on their date. The last thought lifted his spirits a bit, and he yawned in exhaustion.

He could take a nap in the on-call room now, he thought. Sleep sounded like a good idea. The pillows welcomed his weary head, and he let the abyss of oblivion pull him away.

He was abruptly pulled out of it twenty minutes later.

"JD," Carla began slowly, shaking. JD was awake as fast as his hangover would let him, vowing that he'd never drink again in the meantime. "Dr. Cox-"

JD cut her off by running out of the room, swearing under his breath and wondering why the hell no one had paged him. Dr. Cox's room in the ICU was a swamp of doctors; JD made out Elliot's blonde head through the mess. Through the jumble of voices he heard "bradycardic" and "paddles". His heart dropped into his stomach.

Elliot's "Clear!" rang through the room, and the shock of the paddles cut at JD like wires, like blades. Another shout of "Clear!", another shock, and his heart rate was dropping dangerously. JD backed up and flattened himself to the wall, an enormous part of him screaming, _You're a doctor! Do something!_, and the rest of him frozen into blank numbness. He watched his mentor receive the shocks of the paddles, the imprint of the body burning its way through JD and eating at him like corrosive acid, and all he wanted to do was scream and tell Elliot to stop, that she was hurting him, that he was fine and he didn't need the paddles. All he wanted to do was save him, and all JD did was freeze, watching the volts of electricity shock his mentor. His mind shorted out with every zap, his eyes widened, his mouth a burning field of dry cotton. His heart rate rose as Dr. Cox's plummeted.

The harsh flatline twisted the knife. It threatened him, frightened him, cackled loudly and promised to haunt him. The interminable screech was glaring and mad, a thin razor line on the monitor. For a moment, JD was in a tunnel, the rest of the room fading to black, and all that remained was him, Dr. Cox, and the dissonant scream in his head.

The moment was gone, and JD felt it leave and take something with it. Elliot stood there, numb in shock as she turned to JD, her eyes widening. She held the paddles limply in her hands.

"Time of death," JD said, breaking the silence and the ringing in his ears, disturbed by the calm voice that betrayed him like Judas. "6:57 am." He heard the words tumble out of his mouth and spill into the air, but he didn't believe them. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Dr. Cox wasn't dead.

JD repeated the thought like a mantra, chanting it over and over in his mind as he left the room until he got to the men's bathroom. He walked in, closed the door, and sat next to the doorway. He was cold. The tiles of the floor were cold. Dr. Cox wasn't dead. In fact, at any moment, he would come in and ask him if he'd taken a wrong turn on the way to the girls' bathroom, this was the _men's_ room, Lizzy.

Dr. Cox never walked in and saw JD hugging his legs to his chest, hunched over in a sitting fetal position and wishing the world would fade away.

_  
wake._

"JD? Are you ready? We have to go."

Carla's voice called him in his room, where he stood in front of the mirror. His and Turk's suits had been taken to the dry cleaners two days ago, and they had picked them up late last night, racing the clock to get to the cleaners before they closed. They had made it to the cleaners in record time, and celebrated with Slurpees and Twizzlers before arriving home.

"Just a second," JD called, straightening his tie for the umpteenth time. He examined his appearance closely in the mirror. The suit was bigger on him than the last time he had worn it, for Ben's funeral, probably. He wasn't too sure - he might have lost a little weight since then. Or a lot, it didn't matter. He looked a little paler than normal, although that could've been the black suit contrasting with his already fair skin. And no matter how much of Elliot's cover-up he stole, he couldn't make the dark circles under his eyes vanish completely. But other than that, he looked okay. He looked better than he felt.

JD ran his hands through his hair, fixing the soft spikes again, before he left the room. Carla, in an appropriate black dress that ended at her knees, was waiting for him. "Turk went to get Elliot," she said. Then, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Carla," JD answered, feeling as though she and everyone around him had asked this question into the ground. He had given them the same answer, time after time, telling them he was fine ad nauseam. To be truthful, although he was eternally grateful for his friends' compassion, he was getting a little sick of it. "Let's go wait for them, then."

The drive to the funeral parlor was uneventful, although Turk did manage to expertly avoid hitting a squirrel that ran out into the road. That was the only excitement that happened on the way over; there was no music, and Turk and Carla spoke only in low tones, if they spoke at all. JD fidgeted in his seat next to a somber Elliot in the back, feeling much like a kid being dragged to a boring afternoon.

Turk pulled into a small, secluded parking lot near the Sherman Oaks Funeral Home - an original name, JD thought, with only the slightest hint of malice. Carla glanced back at JD before walking with him, Elliot and Turk into the foyer of the building.

The thing about funeral homes was that they always tried to be homey, and failed. JD thought this to himself, noting the wicker chairs set near a white couch that was clearly for show and not for sitting. The foyer was spacious, lit with a chandelier that must be a bitch to clean and several standing lamps that were almost guilty of overdecoration. A staircase off to the right led to nowhere JD could imagine. _A stairway to heaven_, JD thought, wondering just how appropriate it would be if he broke into a karaoke of Led Zeppelin during the wake. It would probably piss the other people off, he thought. Turk might join in though. He realized he hadn't brought a karaoke machine, and then realized that his inner monologue was rambling and Turk was talking to him.

"JD? Jordan and Danni are here."

The Sullivans, dressed in tasteful - and obviously expensive - black dresses, were talking to a bearded old man - the funeral director, JD guessed. Danni caught sight of him first and waved; JD limply waved back to her and Jordan. Danni walked over to him.

"Hey." JD was glad she hadn't called him assface.

"Hey." Awkward salutations were over. JD merely nodded to Jordan, mumbling a customary "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I'm more sorry for you," Jordan said to him. She didn't say anything further, walking away with Danni in tow as JD mulled her remark over in his head. More sorry for him... JD pushed the thought away. He would deal with that later.

JD found it remarkable that he hadn't once cried so far. Sure, he had sort of cried before, in the ICU, but after... he hadn't cried at all. He'd lost sleep, sure, lost weight. He hadn't lost any tears. It was an unsettling thought. Actually, scratch that - most of his thoughts were unsettling now. He hadn't been able to shake the lingering guilt of putting Dr. Cox in the hospital, even when everyone and their mother (literally in Turk's case) had assured him that it wasn't his fault, that there was no way he could've seen a huge truck barreling down the road at them. There was no way he could've swerved, hopefully into some bushes, or floored it and avoided the crash.

Yeah. There was no way. JD kept his eyes down as he walked through the wide arch into Funeral Parlor B, sitting in the second row next to Turk. Elliot hugged him, squeezing his hand before sitting in the empty seat next to Carla. She didn't say anything to him, and JD was grateful. Words wouldn't make it better.

JD was grateful to Jordan, too, for deciding to have a closed-casket wake instead of an open one. He didn't think he could stand the sight of his mentor - and JD avoided the thought that he could've been more - lying in a false pose in a satin-lined box. He _was,_ of course, but JD couldn't bear to even look up at the closed casket. Instead, he looked around the dimly-lit room, a contrast to the brightness of the outside foyer. Enormous flower bouquets, carefully crafted into hearts and such, littered the room, dark roses and green leaves. Pictures of Dr. Cox were arranged on the casket, most of them with Ben, several with Jordan and Jack. One picture caught his eye, though - one that Ben had taken, when he had first been admitted to the hospital and diagnosed with leukemia. It was of Dr. Cox and JD. JD didn't take his eyes from the picture for a while, steeling his heart against feeling as he absorbed a picture of the two of them, a frozen moment in time that taunted him, reminding him of what he had lost.

The few people gathered at the wake were seated and speaking in subdued tones. JD noted the appearances of a few people he didn't know, as well as Dr. Kelso - forced to come by the clout Jordan had, no doubt. That was it, though. JD felt a lump rise in his throat and forced it down. He would notcry because people didn't show up to say goodbye to one of the greatest doctors to have lived. He would _not_. One by one, they rose to kneel in front of the casket, heads bowed in silent prayer. Jordan, Danni, a woman he didn't know. Dr. Kelso, another person he didn't know. Elliot, Carla, Turk. Himself.

The walk was fairly short, and he was in front of the wooden casket faster than he thought. Feeling very much like a newborn colt, he knelt on the wobbly pedestal, folding his hands and bowing his head. Nothing came to him, no words of encouragement he could pray. Nothing.

_You left me,_ he thought, feeling a stream-of-consciousness prayer might work as well as any Our Father. _You promised me you'd take me out on a date, and then you had to go and fuck it up. I hate you, you idiot._ He took that last one back. _I don't hate you. But you were important here. To them. To me. You were... you were the person I always knew I could run to when I needed help or support. And you could've been more. You were _supposed_ to be more, you big, Irish, curly-haired, stubborn, egomaniacal jerk!_ JD stopped himself for a second. _Sorry,_ he thought, realizing he was apologizing to a dead man. _I just wish you were here._ He stood from the pedestal, realizing how lame that last thought was, and walked back to his seat. The small congregation remained seated for a while; JD tuned out as the funeral director went through the motions of "I'm sorry for your loss" that got old and tired after so long. Pallbearers entered the parlor as everyone rose from their seats; the casket would be put in the hearse, they would drive around past the apartment, and then straight to the cemetery.

JD stood with Elliot outside, watching Turk console Carla, who hiccuped the last of her tears onto his suit. Elliot was quiet, leaning her head on JD's shoulder and letting a tear break free every now and then. JD had his arm around her, wishing the day was over. He closed his eyes, wondering if clicking his heels would send him back to Kansas, that this was all just a nightmare he'd break free from.

Three clicks later, he was watching the pallbearers carry the casket into the waiting hearse. It chilled JD's blood, the stark reality of it. The pallbearers had a little difficulty getting the casket into the hearse, nearly dropping it - they were lucky they didn't, JD thought. Jordan would tear their still-beating hearts out like an Aztec priest. He let his mind wander to those funeralgoers who had witnessed dropped caskets of their loved ones and wondered if they had had a holy terror like Jordan rip the poor pallbearers new ones.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Elliot, who was gently tugging at the sleeve of his suit. "They're ready to go."

_I'm not,_ JD wanted to tell her, but he silenced that thought and walked slowly back to the car, finally feeling the funereal mood overtake the boredom of before. It hurt, and he would have rather been bored than melancholy. He pressed his nose to the window of the car, wishing the bright sunlight would realize how inappropriate it was being and turn into a dull rain.

_  
grave._

From sitting in the chairs at the funeral parlor to sitting in the chairs in the cemetery. JD was getting a little tired of chairs. The scene at the cemetery was reminiscent of the day of Ben's funeral. Except Dr. Cox wasn't sitting to his left. He was lying in the casket up front.

This time, Danni was sitting on his left, her makeup scarily perfect despite the tears he had seen earlier. Elliot was on his right, Turk and Carla right behind them. The trinkets on the casket had been taken over from the funeral parlor and rearranged the same way; the picture of Dr. Cox and JD was right in front of JD's seat. It was mocking him, and, as irrational as it was, he wanted to tear it in half.

He found that was pretty easy to refrain from in a setting like this. The priest had arrived, and after speaking briefly with Jordan began the ceremonies. JD stifled a laugh at his own joke, imagining the priest, garbed in hammer pants and a large Flavor Flav clock, as the master of ceremonies. A small giggle escaped him, and Danni elbowed him.

"Ow!" JD hissed under his breath, rubbing his sore side - Danni elbowed _hard_. That was sure to bruise. The magic moment was gone, replaced with the dull feeling that permeated the entire air. JD felt stuffy and uneasy in his suit, too warm and too uncomfortable. He found no place to rest his eyes - not the casket, not the pictures, not his friends or the other people who were here. He began to fidget, and Elliot elbowed him.

This time, JD bit his tongue. Elliot and Danni could've gone elbow-to-elbow in an elbowing match. _And MC Priest could've hosted it,_ JD thought in spite of himself, snickering inaudibly and wondering just how insane he had gone, to be imagining such things at his mentor's funeral.

His mentor's funeral. The laughter in his head died, the words of the priest died, and everything around him flickered out as he realized what he had just thought. His mentor's funeral. His mentor's funeral. His mentor's funeral. Over and over, like a sick merry-go-round. Dr. Cox was...

JD felt icy. His eyes widened at an indistinct spot in the ground, gripping the sides of the seats tightly. He briefly heard Elliot ask him if he was all right, but her voice was garbled, like she was speaking to him underwater. He stood, not bothering to excuse himself from the funeral as he walked off on shaking legs.

He didn't look back until he was a way away, collapsing in a thud next to a crumbling gravestone. JD let his head thunk against the top of the headstone, pressing his back to it and staring into the tree above him.

His mentor's funeral. This was his mentor's funeral, and he had just walked out on it. JD bit the inside of his cheeks, gagging a little when he tasted blood. He couldn't go back, and a part of him didn't want to go. It didn't feel right, the funeral. It felt... it felt incomplete, in a way. JD resisted the urge to smack his head against the granite headstone, even though he was pretty sure it would defy all natural laws and knock actual sense into him instead of possibly giving him a concussion.

He sat for a few more minutes, watching the clouds, the breeze rustling the tree, and the funeral alternately. The funeral ended, if everyone getting up and leaving was any indication. They would actually bury Dr. Cox later. No one ever stuck around for the burial. He saw Carla hug Jordan before going to Turk and Elliot, speaking to them - JD couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could guess. His guess proved right as Turk was elected to go and get him.

"C'mon," Turk said, holding out his hand for JD. He pulled JD up and hugged him. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," JD said defeatedly, avoiding Turk's eyes and he walked back with him. "Sorry for walking out," he muttered sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," Turk said, giving JD a one-armed hug. "You looked like you were having a panic attack. You sure you're-"

"Turk. I'm fine," JD stated. "Really." He offered Turk a weak smile, hoping Turk would leave the matter alone. He did, and JD could've cried in gratitude.

But he didn't. He hadn't cried at all.

_  
sunset._

JD was careful not to spill the hot coffee on his shirt. He had gotten dressed up for this - not too formally, but he was wearing a nice shirt and his best pair of jeans, the kind that made his ass look both adorable and sexy. A part of him still felt that after this, he should be committed to a top-notch mental institution. But right now, he kind of didn't care.

They had finished burying Dr. Cox later that afternoon, and the dirt on the grave was still fresh. The cemetery was abandoned, the pinks and reds of the sunset tinting the granite headstones and mausoleums. It was something out of a morbid fairytale. JD sat in front of the grave, setting his coffee down and placing another cup on the dirt, in front of the many bouquets.

"I got us coffee," he began, half-believing that he had really lost his mind. "And I know you can't really drink it, but it's the thought that counts, right?" Yeah, he had lost it. "I was just thinking, you know, you said you would take me out on a date for coffee, and now..." JD faltered. "Now you can't." He sucked in a breath, the last three words echoing in the stillness of the cemetery. "But I'm here anyway, Dr. Cox." He frowned. "Perry." That seemed a little better. It wasn't like he was there to tell him to never use his real name, anyway. Even though JD would've preferred that to the current situation.

"I could tell you I'm sorry, but I've heard that said so many times today that I'm just sick of it," he said, twirling his Starbucks coffee cup in his hand. "Even though I really am. God, Perry. I... I shouldn't have been driving. I should've just called a cab, taken care of your car in the morning..." He trailed off, feeling the butterfly feeling of guilt in his stomach threatening to crumble him. "Everybody keeps telling me that it's not my fault, but I keep feeling like it was. Like I could've stopped the truck from hitting the car."

Just saying that made JD realize its stupidity. "Yeah. Like I'm Superman. I could've prevented a huge eighteen-wheeler from slamming into your car. But I just... I feel like I could've done more to save you. I wanted to save you." He bit his lip, feeling his eyes beginning to burn. "I really miss you. It hasn't even been a very long time, and I miss you so much. The hospital is so..." He paused, searching for the right word. "It's empty. There's no one walking around in complete fear that you'll whistle for them or berate them or go into one of your rants or call them girls' names." That last one made JD smile a little. "I'm going to miss you calling me a girl's name, as belittling and emasculating as it was."

JD's coffee was forgotten in his hand, lukewarm by now. "I wish none of this had happened. I wish we hadn't gone out drinking, I wish you hadn't asked me out, even if it was for coffee." JD hesitated. "Well, that part wasn't bad. Actually," and he felt sheepish admitting it, "I wouldn't have minded if we went on another date. And I wouldn't have chosen Hugh Jackman over you."

The setting sun cast JD's shadow onto Dr. Cox's grave. JD watched his shadow move when he moved, cry when he cried. He technically didn't see that last one, but he knew that his shadow was crying with him.

"I'm sorry," JD said, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. "I don't usually cry on first dates. But I usually don't have first dates in cemeteries, so you'll have to forgive me under the circumstances." He sniffed and hiccuped, feeling a little better compared to the rest of the day - the days since the death, actually. The death. He'd been referring to that day as "the accident", unable to bring himself to call it the day of Dr. Cox's death. And now, here he was. Dr. Cox was dead.

JD took a breath, feeling the air grow chilly as the sun sank behind the infinite horizon. "I think," he began slowly. "I think, if we dated, we could've had something. I know, neither one of us is really..." he sucked in a breath, "gay," _that wasn't bad,_ "but it could've worked, I think. We really do make a good team," he added, remembering a fond moment where he had compared the two of them to a married couple. The other doctor had vehemently denied any comparison, but JD liked to think that he had found some truth in it. "And I know this sounds really, _really_ girly, but you and I could have been a couple." The words sounded cheesier coming out of his mouth, but it was something he liked to think, too. "Or, you know. It could have been _some_thing."

Jordan's words came back to him. _I feel more sorry for you._ He hadn't realized why she had said it at first, but now, sitting at the foot of the new grave, JD figured out her reason. "Jordan said she felt more sorry for me than I did for her," he said, looking into his lap. "And I guess she saw how much I needed you." He gulped in a breath, calming his nerves. "I'm not as strong as you, Perry."

The wind swam around him, gently caressing his skin, as if to reassure him. "Thanks, Wind," JD muttered, thankful that he was alone in the cemetery. He returned his attention to the grave.

"I miss you." A beat, and he decided to say what had been on his mind. "And I love you." JD looked at the headstone, the flowers, the cooling coffees standing side by side on the grave. He stood, stretching and leaving everything where it was. JD pulled his jacket closer to his body, turning one last time to look at Dr. Cox's - Perry's, now - grave. The two coffee cups made an odd addition to the flowers and paraphernalia of the grave.

_Then again, _I_ was an odd addition to his life_, JD thought fondly. He laughed, a short, soft laugh, and smiled a little. "So long, Perry." He found himself blowing an air kiss to the grave, imagining it landing right in the center of the headstone, where Percival Cox was engraved, and his smile widened. He ambled slowly out of the graveyard, feeling warm for the first time in a long while.


End file.
